CHAPTER II.
TROUBLE BREWS ON THE TRAIL So silent had been the approach of Tom and his waif companion that those below had not perceived them.
Moreover, judging from the expressions on the faces of the people almost at Reade's feet, they were all too deeply absorbed in their own business to have any eyes or ears for outside matters.
Through the scene below was one of armed truce that might, at any moment, break into hostilities, with human lives at stake, Tom glanced coolly downward for a few seconds after his first startled, unheard remark.
"I'm going, to duck out of this," whispered Alf Drew, whose slim little figure was shaking in a way suggestive of chills.
"Don't be in a hurry," Tom murmured.

"We may be of some use to some of these people." "Tote those guns away, friends," spoke one of the revolver-armed men with the automobile party, "and march yourselves under the guns.

Remember, we have women here." "They can get away," returned one of the sullen-faced men with rifles.
"We won't hinder 'em.

We'll give 'em two full minutes to get where it's safe.

Then we're going to turn our talking machines loose." From the top of the low cliff came Tom Meade's drawling voice: "Oh, I say, friends!" Startled, all below glanced quickly upward.
"There seems to be trouble down there," Tom suggested.
"There sure is," nodded one of the armed men with the automobile party.
"Now, it's too glorious a day to spoil it with fighting," Reade went on.